Hazy Shade of Winter
by nottonyharrison
Summary: Beth and Rio get stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere during a snowstorm. Tension ensues. Exactly what it says on the tin.
1. Chapter 1

The late January air is freezing against Beth's cheeks as she steers the boat into the narrow dock. There's a figure standing on the grass bank, dark against the soft light coming from the cabin's windows. She frowns as she tosses three duffel bags onto the dock and clambers up onto the splintering timber.

"Could at least give me a hand," she shouts. The figure just raises their hands palms up in a the universal gesture of oops. Beth picks up one of the bags and stomps her way to the shore, boots clacking with every step. When she reaches him she takes one look at the tailored coat, collar flipped up against the wind, and rolls her eyes. She dumps the heavy bag at his feet. "You can get the rest."

She walks past him and doesn't bother to listen for a response. The cabin is set back from the shore about fifty yards. There's a bench sitting out the front that Dean and Kenny built one summer, and behind that the remnants of a hammock dangling between the posts of the porch. She hesitates for a moment. The bench is starting to deteriorate. One leg is showing signs of rot, and the seat is cracked and splintering, like someone has dragged a wire brush over it.

She kicks the leg and the whole side collapses. Beth smiles and goes inside.

It's not a cabin really, it's a house. It has a proper kitchen and three bedrooms. The living room has comfortable couches and a firebox that keeps the whole place warm even when it's ten degrees. It's warm inside, he must have started the fire a few hours ago.

She's vaguely aware of a truck door slamming, and an engine starting and running for a few minutes before being shut off.

The front door opens as she's tugging off her puffer jacket. The cuffs are a bit too tight and she struggles to get her hands free. She looks up and holds his gaze as she wriggles her hands through the openings.

"I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow."

He nibbles on his lower lip for a few moments, considering his answer. "Yeah well things went a bit smoother than expected."

Beth lets out a sigh of relief as she drapes the jacket over the back of a dining chair. "So it's done then? It's not coming back?"

"Are you asking if it's done, or you're done?"

She huffs a short laugh devoid of any real humor. "You already know I'm done."

She heads to one of the cabinets and pulls out a bottle of bourbon. The kitchen window looks out on the side yard towards a small cluster of trees that look ghostly against the moonlight shimmering on the water of the St Marys. It's started snowing, the dark clouds are moving quickly across the sky and she knows soon there will be nothing in the window but her reflection.

"Oh you think treating me like a ten dollar hooker is how you say you're done?"

Beth grabs the nearest cup from the shelf, it's a free one from the gas station that's got Marge Simpson plastered to the side of it. She fills it up half way and takes a sip. "Yeah well it's not like you ever treated me like anything other than a plaything so pot say hi to kettle." She turns on the tap and fills up the kettle to avoid looking over her shoulder at him. A heavy silence fills the room.

"I ain't never treat you like a plaything." She can hear him let out a heavy breath through his nose and knows his nostrils are flaring and his mouth is probably twisted in that frown he gets like he's smelled something rotten. "You're the one who's always yanking my chain… you're in you're out, you've got a fucking family, oh you need to pay the bills, oh no you can't possibly get your hands dirty I don't know what you want from me."

Beth picks up the kettle from the counter and slams it down on the stove. "Yeah? Well I don't know what I want from you either, are you happy?" She whips around and glares at him. Rio is staring down at his boots, toe kicking at the cheap tile on the kitchen floor. "And does it even really matter? I mean you're standing here with all this baggage and-"

"I don't have baggage."

"Oh, you don't have baggage fuck, you just cremated a body for me. In exchange for..." She waves her hand towards the front door, "that. Like that's literal baggage. Literal-"

"Yeah yeah I get the fucking point." He turns to leave but hesitates. "You know you say being around me is like having a newborn well you're like a toddler who's constantly throwing a tantrum because they suddenly decided they don't like ice cream!"

She's silent for ten seconds or so, before a tiny snort of laughter escapes her nose and she giggles.

"That wasn't supposed to be funny." He's still facing away from her.

Beth runs a hand over her face. "Yeah well it kinda was."

"Look I'm gonna go..." He starts back towards the door.

"Don't." She leans back against the sink and takes another sip of her drink. "It's started snowing and it's freezing out there, you can stay in one of the kids' rooms."

He turns around and for a moment he looks vulnerable, like he did that afternoon in her bedroom right before his nose hit her cheek and he kissed her with a gasp and an unspoken promise. "I ain't got no pajamas."

She grabs another glass down, pours him a drink, and walks over with her arm outstretched. He takes it. "Look it's one in the morning, you have to drive all the way across the island and then it's another six hours back to Detroit after the crossing so… you were supposed to come tomorrow anyway so what's the big deal?"

He's looking at her through lowered eyes, eyelashes dark against his cheeks. "No big deal, just… got shit to do you know?"

"Shit that involves you crashing your car into a snowdrift?"

Rio licks his lips and raises his eyes to meet hers. "You worrying about me now?"

"I'll get you some pajamas."

Beth puts her glass down on the counter and walks down the hall. "You can sleep in the boys' room." She pushes a door open and gestures inside. "There's some spare blankets in the closet if you get cold, I'll be back in a sec."

She heads to the master bedroom and rummages around in the bottom drawer. Her hands pass over a pair of Dean's old sleep pants before they settle on a stripey set of her own. She pulls them out and heads back down the corridor.

The wind is getting up outside and she can hear the gusts buffeting the loose iron on the front porch. She hears a thump and an loud shit and the lights flicker out.

"You okay?" Her hands run down the wall until she feels the open door. "I think the power's gone out."

"Ya think?"

Beth reaches for her phone and flicks on the torch. "Cell signal's gone too."

Rio sighs. "Cool that's just… cool." She can see him pulling a blanket out of the closet with one hand while holding his phone up for light with the other. She puts the clothes down and stands by the bed awkwardly.

"Well… g'night I guess." She turns to leave but his hand on her shoulder stops her.

"Elizabeth..."

She huffs out a breath and bite her lip. "It's okay they're not Dean's pjs."

"That's not… look do you really think I kept that body just so I had something over you? Because that's not what it was about."

Beth whirls around and frowns. "Why on earth would you keep it then? If it wasn't a way to keep me in line then why else wouldn't you just do what you do?"

"I just wanted to see you again, okay?" He holds his fingers against the bridge of his nose and makes a pained noise. 'You don't get it do you? I don't want it to be over, and I don't think you do either."

"I don't have a choice."

He takes a step closer to her and raises his hand to her cheek, running his thumb under her eye. "Everyone's got a choice."

She lets out a sharp bark of laughter. "Yeah well I can choose to have my kids, or not have them so…"

"And he comes with that deal?"

"Yeah."

Rio flicks his tongue out and presses his lips together. "Right." He drops his hand and takes a step back. "I'm gonna… you got a spare toothbrush?"

"Yeah, in the bathroom cabinet should be a couple in the packaging." The response is automatic, she's already on her way to bed.

…

The light filtering through the curtains is harsh and bright the next morning, and Beth lies in bed staring at the ceiling trying not to think about the man sleeping in the bedroom on the other side of the hall. Her mind keeps drifting to three weeks ago, when she stood in her room with mismatched socks and paranoia about her ratty bra and stretch marks, and the way he had kissed her in a way that made her think she meant something.

Who is she kidding he kissed her like she meant everything. And for a couple of hours that's all she it was, hot open mouthed kisses and biting down on lips. Learning each others' bodies and giggling like teenagers when something knocked into somewhere uncomfortable. Arching her back as he made her come with his tongue, her hands hard against his scalp as she pressed him into her.

Beth groans and rolls over. She leans out of bed and tugs the curtain aside and all she can see is white.

"Son of a bitch."


	2. Chapter 2

Beth lies in bed for over an hour, mostly just alternating between staring at the ceiling and checking her phone for signal. The battery is sitting at twenty-three percent, and eventually she just shuts it off and tosses down on the comforter.

She can hear Rio shuffling around the kitchen, swearing occasionally, opening and closing cabinet doors. She slowly eases out of bed, and picks up the robe that had been discarded the night before. It's cold from sitting on the wooden floor all night, and she briefly considers crawling back into bed and just sleeping the rest of the morning away. She doesn't have slippers, and instead layers a couple of pairs of socks, grabbing some spares for him before heading to the kitchen.

He's crouched down, head inside the cabinet. She lets out a loud sigh. "The water works on an electric pump, we only have what's in the pipes."

He crawls out from under the sink, wrench in hand, and gives her an exasperated look. "Yeah, well the pipes are frozen."

Beth hands him the socks, grabs the kettle from the stove, and heads for the bathroom. It's in the middle of the house, protected from the cold outside walls, and the water is still flowing enough to fill the container. When she returns she avoids his eyes, instead focusing on lighting the gas and preparing the mugs.

She can see him lean against the counter out of the corner of her eye.

"You wanna talk about it?"

She rolls her shoulders and swishes the kettle around a little on the stove. "About what?"

"'Bout last night."

She shakes her head once and sets her mouth in a hard line. "Nope."

"Aight then." He presses his lips together and nods slowly.

So she pours them a couple of instant coffees. They don't have sugar or creamer, but she doesn't apologize, instead just slides it across the counter and walks off into the living room to light a fire.

She doesn't see or hear him for a couple of hours after that.

...

There's a decent selection of books in the cabin. Last year she'd bought a bunch of hardbacks from a fair and lugged them all the way to the island just to style the shelves a bit nicer, and she's grateful. The fire is licking away up the chimney, and she's curled up on the sofa with a copy of Rebecca that was printed in the fifties. She'd even managed to coax enough water out of the faucet to make another cup of coffee.

She jerks in surprise as a loud thunk disturbs the quiet ambience, and whips her head up to where he's standing over her, holding out a glass. She darts her eyes to the coffee table, where the nearly full bottle of bourbon sits next to a generous pour, and takes the drink from him with a raised eyebrow.

"Isn't it a bit early to get hammered?"

He snorts, and flops down onto the seat opposite her. "Yeah, don't seem to remember it stoppin' you before."

Beth frowns, and puts the glass down next to her coffee without taking a sip. She turns back to the book.

Twenty minutes later, and she's pretended to turn the page five times. The sound of the fire cracking away is intermittently broken by the odd sip from the other side of the room and the harsh rasp of Rio's own book. She steals a look, he's not having the same problem as her, clearly engrossed in whatever spy novel he's picked up from the pile.

She grabs the glass of bourbon, tips it into her lukewarm coffee, and takes a gulp. He doesn't react.

Her mind drifts back to that day, and the bar, and him in her bedroom looking at her like she was an enigma and how powerful that made her feel, like she could take him by the hand and lead him over a cliff and he would follow her with no question or protest.

She thinks about his hands, long delicate fingers trailing over her hip, her knee, the side of her breast and tickling her underarm. She thinks about how he had kissed her, and then she has to tell herself to stop because her heart is hammering and she can hear her breathing getting choppy and loud.

It goes like that for another hour, her struggling through five pages and wincing every time she takes a sip of the eventually freezing cold drink, as she tried not to think about hands and lips and his dick - oh god his dick fuck - he appears unfazed and silent and not moving apart from turning a page every few minutes. She doesn't know if he can feel the tension in the room rising with every minute, but for her it's like someone is standing in the corner waiting to hit a tuning fork at just the right moment. Eventually she tosses Rebecca on to the table and shoves up off the couch.

Rio had tossed a couple of logs on the fire earlier, but she adds another, and then heads to the kitchen to rinse out her cups.

"Yo, so what's for lunch?"

Beth turns the tap forcefully and slams the coffee mug down in the sink when it makes a loud squeak and only a small dribble of freezing water comes out. "There's some beans in the pantry, knock yourself out."

"Yeah, but what if I don't feel like beans." His voice is flat and almost chilling, it reminds her of the early days when he was still considering killing her, and a shiver runs down her spine.

She takes a sharp breath and turns to him. He's still reading, not bothered enough with her to interrupt his own enjoyment, and she suddenly feels rebellious. "Yeah, well I guess you're shit out of luck." she snaps, and walks off down the hall in what she hopes is a manner that says I hate you .

She's so committed to the dramatic exit that she goes to her room, slams the door, and collapses on the bed. And then there's three hours of tossing and turning, desperately trying to drift off, forget about being stuck alone with him for god knows how long. Forget about the tingle between her legs and the ache in her chest.

…

Beth wakes with a jerk. It's almost dark outside, and the pink hue of the sunset is painting long streaks across the white room, highlighting the rough plaster job and the large dent from where they dropped the dresser against the wall the last time she and Dean had rearranged the place. She slowly becomes aware of his voice at the door, accompanied by a sharp knock.

"Elizabeth, you in there? I said you want some food?"

She groans, and rolls over. Her arm reaches across the bedspread and her hand clasps around her lifeless phone. "Wh' time is it?"

There's a thud and a sigh. "I dunno, like dinner time? Who cares… you hungry or no?"

"...yeah okay."

She shuffles out to the kitchen where he's opening a couple of cans of beans. He glances up. "How hungry? One or two?"

"One."

"You gonna use your manners?"

She curls her lip in a sneer and makes a noise of disgust.

Ten minutes later they're sitting opposite one another at the kitchen table, deliberately avoiding eye contact and swallowing down the food. After the dishes have been dumped in the sink Rio's tries again to get some more water from the pipes to wash up. He lets out a frustrated grumble and grabs a large pot from the cupboard before storming outside.

She watches him scoop snow into the pan and grabs the bottle of bourbon and a glass. A few moments later he clatters back through the door, and drops the pot on the stove. She waves the bottle at him and raises an eyebrow.

"You want one?"

He leans back against the counter and tugs on his lip with his teeth. "You gonna storm off in a sulk again?"

"I don't know, are you going to be a complete asshole?"

He smiles crookedly and runs his thumb over his stubble. "Okay how 'bout an ice breaker… you ever play never have I ever?"

...

Beth leans against the base of the couch and laughs. Her toes are too close to the fire, and the soles of her feet are burning, but she doesn't care. "Oh my god, do you remember when you went all caveman on the corvette… Dean's face ." She cackles and keels over, almost sloshing bourbon out of the glass as she catches herself.

Rio has a wide smile. The only illumination is the ambient glow from the fire, casting shadows across his sharp cheekbones and highlighting his ridiculous bambi eyes with warm flecks of gold. Something snakes up her spine and catches in her throat. "Dean? Are you kidding? The look on your face when you thought I was going to tell him I fucked you in that bathroom." He does his best impression of her panicked expression, and she stares at him in what she hopes is a mocking glare.

"Yeah, well…" she trails off and takes a sip of her drink. He's slumped against the armchair, legs crossed and head tipped back looking at her through lowered eyelids. She knows his languid pose and relaxed expression is his version of a challenge though, and sets her lips in a hard line.

"It was good though, wasn't it?" His lips quirk in a lazy smile that makes her stomach drop.

She looks away and swallows thickly. "If an awkward fuck on a cramped bathroom counter is good, then sure." She shrugs, and curls her legs away from the fire.

"Oh, you trynna tell me I don't make you come hard enough?"

Beth tucks her hair behind her ear, and takes another gulp of bourbon. "I'm just saying a quickie in a bar bathroom isn't the best way to give a woman an orgasm." She shrugs and meets his eyes. "I mean, you don't have time for a decent amount of foreplay, the position isn't the most comfortable, and it's not exactly like we were both entirely sober come on ."

He smirks. "Yeah, well." He pauses and raises an eyebrow. "Guess we made up for it later, huh?"

She grunts a response and thinks carefully about her next words. "Did you mean what you said that night in my office?"

"What did I say?"

"You know what you said." she replies, indignant.

"Do I? Why don't you tell me?" He's absentmindedly picking at a thread on his hoodie, and flexing his feet back and forth. She presses her lips together and doesn't reply. A few minutes later he knocks a foot into her leg. "Hey."

She hums a question, and rolls her head on her shoulders.

"I dunno… I mean I had ulterior motives but fuck you looked good in that lighting with the suit and all that attitude."

She barks out a laugh. "Yeah, okay."

He adjusts his back against the chair. "You wanna know what I did after I left?"

Beth rolls her eyes and flops her head to the side, until she's meeting his gaze, hooded and smoky under his long lashes. "What?"

He licks his lips and runs a hand over his neck until his hand is covering his tattoo, and he looks up at the ceiling. "I went back to my car…" The hand runs across his shoulder and under the hoodie until he's rubbing at the skin underneath. "And Drove around the corner… and I parked up… and whacked off in that parking building by the mini-mart." He chuckles. "I had to walk into my apartment building with jizz all over my pants."

Beth rolls onto the floor, shaking with silent laughter. "Didn't you have… I don't know like a cloth or something?"

He holds his hands out in surrender. "Not anywhere I could reach considerin' the urgency of the situation, nah."

And then the image of him desperately grinding in his pants, trying to find somewhere private enough to jerk off fills her mind, and she stops laughing. She squirms a little and avoids his eyes.

"You thinkin' 'bout it? 'Bout me with my hand wrapped around my dick, thinking about you on that desk, pants dangling off one ankle while I fuck you your tits jiggling out of that bra I know you wore just for me."

She groans, and rolls away, trying to be as subtle as possible as she presses her thighs together "Shut up."

"Because fuck your tits honestly I could write a fucking essay on all the ways I've pictured them movin'."

"Shut up ." Beth pushes herself up with a groan and steadies herself before looking down at him. "I'm going to bed." Her heart is pounding and she's trying not to show she's still stuck on him thinking about her boobs.

He smiles up at her softly. "Aight, night."

Five minutes later, after brushing her teeth and washing her face, she's lying under the covers frantically rubbing one out in a vain attempt to chase an orgasm even half as good as that night in the bathroom.

And as she lays there in the dark, nothing for company but her own hand and a memory of his smile and his obscene words, Beth considers making up some excuse about body heat, or not being used to having a bed without another body, or even just going back to that living room and saying fuck it .


End file.
